


warm bodies

by eidolith



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Kink, Bottom Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, M/M, Monster Hunters, Smut, Top Sylvain Jose Gautier, he's also kinda mean, i mean sylvain's a vampire so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:54:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29057055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eidolith/pseuds/eidolith
Summary: “Is that what it is, Dima?” Sylvain croons. He presses a kiss to Dimitri's jaw. “Do you like taking care of me?” He buries his nose into the curve of Dimitri's neck. The pulse there pounds like a drum. “Does the big, bad Blaiddyd get off on letting his prey fuck him?”Dimitri growls, fists a hand in Sylvain’s hair, and tugs him back. “Watch yourself.”(yes dimitri totally gets off on letting his prey fuck him)
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 12
Kudos: 65





	warm bodies

Dimitri is warm.

Of course he is—he is warm in the way all living things are. His heart pumps his blood, hot and heady, through his veins. Sylvain feels it the most in the thin skin around his wrists, his ankles, behind his ears. He feels his heartbeat there in a way that's so much more visceral than if he were to place a palm over his chest.

 _It's the danger_ , his mind helpfully supplies as he drags the corner of a fang against the thin vein running down Dimitri's wrist. Sylvain has had centuries to learn the vulnerabilities of the human body. Dimitri is large, larger than most men Sylvain has had, and stronger than himself even if by just a hair. He's dangerous in his own right—in the corner of his eye Sylvain catches the glimmer of the street lantern reflecting off the blessed silver blade of Dimitri's hunting lance. He could kill him with that; he could kill him with a fucking silver spoon if he wanted to with how strong he is.

Dimitri's powerful, but he's weak, too. Hunter or not, he's still only human. A prick in the wrong ( _right_ , the beast in him hisses) vein and he’d be dead, and all of his beautiful, beautiful vitality would spill from him and into Sylvain’s waiting mouth.

Just the thought of it makes him sink his teeth deeply into the meat of Dimitri's wrist. Dimitri gasps and tenses in mouth, and his blood flows hotter and heavier against Sylvain’s tongue. He drinks deeply, in heavy swallows until Dimitri makes to pull away.

“Sylvain—!” Sylvain laughs and pulls off of him. He swipes his palm against his mouth. “Sorry, Dima,” he says, not feeling particularly sorry at all. “Just couldn't help myself.” He presses his wet hand against Dimitri's jaw and pulls him in for a kiss, swallowing the moan that erupts from Dimitri's throat. They kiss until Dimitri squirms beneath him for breath. Another weakness.

Sylvain lets him go and drags his red fingertips across Dimitri's lips, grinning at the way his own blood stains them red and whorish.

Dimitri is panting. He cradles his wrist against his chest, and Sylvain watches a tiny rivulet of blood trickle down his corded forearm and drip from the bend of his elbow. He smiles again and leans over, licking a long stripe up his arm. Dimitri shivers when his tongue swipes where his fangs broke into his skin. Sylvain lets his saliva knit the skin together until the blood stops flowing.

“There. All better,” Sylvain says. He sits back on his haunches and takes Dimitri in. His hair is mussed, sticking this way and that. His eyepatch is crooked, and the top of his scarred eyelid is just barely visible. He's leaning heavily against the stone wall of the church with an exhaustion that shows itself in how pale his face is, and that simply won't do. Sylvain digs into his pocket and pulls out the orange he tucked away for this every occasion, still chilled where it pressed against his cold skin.

He can feel Dimitri's gaze on his hands as he digs his nails into the flesh of the orange. The smell of it is sweet, invading Sylvain’s sensitive nostrils in a way that he imagines would make him sneeze if he needed to breathe through his nose. The fruit is overripe and spills juice over his fingers.

“Wh—”

Sylvain shushes him with his sticky fingers. “Just eat,” he murmurs. He slips a segment of orange between Dimitri's lips and brushes the pad of his thumb against his tongue. Dimitri closes his mouth around him and sucks the sweetness away, his eye fluttering shut. “Good boy.”

They stay like that for a few long moments until the orange is gone and the pallor starts to return to Dimitri's face. Sylvain wipes the stickiness away on the leg of his trousers.

Dimitri's gaze is loaded. “Are you satisfied?”

“Mhmm...” Sylvain hums. He gets to his feet and tries to ignore the creak in his knees. He nudges the shaft of Dimitri's lance with the toe of his boot. It burns him even through the layers of stiff leather. “Aren't we glad that you didn't need to use this?”

Dimitri only glowers harder. “I wouldn't have needed to draw it if you hadn't tried to feed from that woman.”

Sylvain shrugs. “You were running late, I got hungry. You know the deal.” He thinks back to the busty woman he'd nearly eaten. She was flouncy in the way that most noblewomen in Fhirdiad were, overly flirty and caked in cosmetics and perfume filled with so many toxins that in retrospect would've made her taste terrible. He'd crowded her in the alleyway of the church, and relished the way her eyes filled with horror when he flashed his fangs at her. Her frantic babbling and pleading stopped short when Dimitri pointed the tip of his lance at Sylvain’s throat and she'd taken the first opportunity to slip out from under him and run like hell down the street.

“You’re not the only monster in this city I have to take care of.” Dimitri gets to his feet. Sylvain smiles at the minute tremble in his knees.

He inches forward and presses his palm into Dimitri’s sternum. “Oh, I know that,” he brushes his mouth against Dimitri’s and grazes his bottom lip with a fang. “But I’m your favorite, aren’t I? I mean, why else am I still standing here?”

Dimitri says nothing.

“Is that what it is, Dima?” Sylvain croons. He presses a kiss to Dimitri's jaw. “Do you like taking care of me?” He buries his nose into the curve of Dimitri's neck. The pulse there pounds like a drum. “Does the big, bad Blaiddyd get off on letting his prey fuck him?”

Dimitri growls, fists a hand in Sylvain’s hair, and tugs him back. “Watch yourself.”

Sylvain grins meanly. “You came here reeking of wet dog. Tell me, do the ghosts of your ancestors watch you get knotted by werewolves?”

Dimitri snarls and lunges at him. He's kicked his lance up from off the ground and swipes at him with the blade. He's fast, but Sylvain is faster. He ducks under the arc of Dimitri's lance and catches his ankle with his own, sending him tumbling to the ground. Only Dimitri's honed reflexes keep him from smashing his pretty teeth against the filthy cobblestones beneath them.

Dimitri’s on his back in a second and slips a silver dagger from a holster he must keep tucked in his sleeve. Sylvain kicks it away and pins him with a knee in his solar plexus. “Ooh, hit a nerve, did I?” He tangles a hand into Dimitri’s hair.

Dimitri thrashes against him. “Get _off_ of me,” he hisses through his teeth.

Sylvain digs his knee into him harder. “Oh, I will.” He slices a long, shallow cut down his cheek with his nail. “But I have to make it look convincing, first,” he says, licking Dimitri’s blood from his finger.

“What are you _talking_ —”

Sylvain shuts him up by hooking a finger in the collar of his tunic and tearing it down the seam. He presses a bruise into his chest with his knuckles. The blood pooling beneath his skin is a pretty, unoxidized purple. “There we go. Now you look the part.”

Dimitri shoves him off. His fingers twitch toward his dagger.

“Oh, calm down,” Sylvain tuts. “I’ll buy you a new shirt if you’re that upset about it.”

“ _Explain_.”

Footsteps, too faint for Dimitri’s feeble human hearing to pick up reverberate in Sylvain's ears. “I don’t think your grumpy little friend would believe you made it out of a tussle with me without taking a hit or two.”

“Grumpy little—do you mean _Felix_?”

“Yeah, him!” Sylvain goes quiet for a moment. Another set of steps, lighter and bouncier, fall alongside the first. “Ah, the other one’s here too.” He leans forward and tugs Dimitri’s sleeve over the puncture marks on his wrist. “You might wanna keep those covered. Don’t wanna give the Hunter’s Guild the wrong impression, do we?” Dimitri swats his hand away and fiddles with the button fastening his cuff until it closes. “By the way, you've got a little…” He trails off and slips a handkerchief from his shirt pocket. He dips it into a puddle a few feet away and wipes away the worst of the mess he'd left staining Dimitri's chin. “So sorry about that.”

"No you're not." Dimitri grunts but doesn't bat him away this time. He purses his lips tightly and lets him swipe the cloth across his face until he's clean.

Sylvain leans forward and kisses him again. He slips his tongue into Dimitri’s mouth and hopes he can somehow taste his own blood on him. “The sun’ll be up in a few hours,” he whispers against Dimitri's lips. “If you're still hard tomorrow night…” He brushes a hand over the bulge in Dimitri's trousers. “You know where to find me.” He grins at him and lets himself melt into the shadows of the alleyway just as Fraldarius and Galatea round the corner.

He doesn't pay much attention to them, really. Their gleaming silver weapons are dulled by the dried blood and wolf hair caked over the blades, but they're non-threats as far as Sylvain’s concerned, far weaker than Dimitri,. He catches Dimitri's eye over Galatea’s shoulder and winks before his magic takes him away.

**Author's Note:**

> smut in the next chapter (thru dimitri's pov!)
> 
> comments and kudos are appreciated!


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